


Rise Up To Rule

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 17:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Azazel teleports Charles away from the CIA base, per Shaw's request. AU of the movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rise Up To Rule

**Author's Note:**

> Title is also the name of a track from the "First Class" soundtrack.

There's an anxious pallor that settles over the group in the wake of Shaw's attack. With Darwin dead, and everyone wondering how long this little get-together of mutants will last, it seems like common sense for everyone to stick together. So when it seems as though Charles hasn't been seen for a while, Erik notices fairly quickly. "Where is he?" he asks the solemn group; and then, when nobody answers after a long pause, snaps, "Where is he!"

"I haven't seen him since he said he was going to check on something in Cerebro," Raven finally says. "Maybe he just got sidetracked ..." she adds, but Erik has already taken off running. He rushes into Cerebro's chamber, but there's nobody there. When a cursory search of the facility also turns up nothing, nor does thinking hard yield a response from his telepath friend, Erik feels a cold fear grip him. "Charles, where are you?" he murmurs, and grips a metal banister so hard that it melts under his hands.

*

The air is cold, and Charles can tell that he's in some sort of underground facility. The knowledge of how he got there still unnerves him; one minute, he was in the midst of fiddling with a couple of knobs on Cerebro; the next, he was being gripped by the arms by large, clawed, red hands. He figured the tall creature was a mutant when he'd been spun around to face it, but the lurch of their shared teleportation had still startled him. He'd let out a soft cry as they reappeared in whatever location they were in now, and the creature - Azazel, he gathered from delving a bit into its (his) mind - bared pointed teeth at him. "He's waiting," Azazel rumbled softly, gesturing towards a closed door in the vicinity. "Are you going to go willingly, or do I have to carry you?"

"I'll walk," Charles says quickly, and Azazel lets go of his arms. For a split second, Charles considers mind-tricking the red-skinned mutant and getting free; but, he thinks, it's obvious that he was brought here for a reason. It could help them get closer to stopping Shaw, he thinks, and allows Azazel to march him towards the door.

Shaw is smaller, more diminutive than Charles had him built up in his mind, and he smiles in a disarming way when the door swings open. "Ah, the telepath," Shaw says, clasping his hands together, showing all of his teeth. He glances briefly at the young woman Charles recognizes as Angel, who dips her head to avoid his sharp gaze: "I'm so pleased that we finally have the opportunity to meet. Let's see: What did Emma call you before being so rudely whisked away by those nasty CIA operatives?" he muses, and then glances at Angel. "Help me out here, sweet pea."

"Charles," Angel sighs, and winces slightly, her shoulders hunched. "Xavier," she adds after a moment.

"Charles Xavier." Shaw says his name slowly, rolling out each syllable on his tongue. Charles feels a flicker of fear. The feeling intensifies quite a lot when he reaches out, trying to feel Shaw's mind, and receives absolutely nothing in return. He must look surprised at this, because Shaw outright laughs at him. "Do you like my helmet?" he asks conversationally, and points at his headpiece. "Emma hated it. I'm not sure I love it yet, either. It's like getting a new haircut; you're just not used to the change at first. But," Shaw tells him pointedly, "it does keep certain people from snooping in places where they don't belong, so there is that."

Charles swallows hard. "What can I do for you?" he queries, hoping that things will remain civil, in this manner, for the duration of this confrontation. At the same time, he recognizes a trap when he sees one; the fact that he's flanked on all sides by mutants whose collective power has already been well-demonstrated does not make him optimistic that he will walk away from here unscathed, or even at all. 'Erik,' he thinks vaguely, and an image of the taller man comes unbidden to his mind. He knows without even verifying it that he's too far away from Langley to mind-link with anyone there - if they're even in Langley, anymore, for that matter - but that doesn't stop him from wishing desperately that he'd had a bit more foresight or ... something; anything that would have allowed him not to be in this position right now.

Shaw is a perceptive man. "You wouldn't be trying to contact your friend, would you now, Charles?" He frowns at Shaw's eerie grin, and his blood runs cold. "I'm so glad Erik's found such a good friend," Shaw tells him, and Charles' heart flutters. Then there's a small gesture from the other man, and suddenly, Charles' arms are being pinioned behind his back by Azazel. Grunting, he forces himself to keep his composure, even when Shaw reaches out and strokes a small-ish hand across his cheek. "Erik was such a lonely little boy," Shaw muses. "It was always so sad to see."

"Maybe if you hadn't killed his mother," Charles retorts bitterly, and Shaw looks momentarily startled, but then lapses into soft laughter.

"I was surprised he told you, but then ... well, telepath, right? Can't get anything past you." Shaw watches Charles' face carefully as he speaks. "Charles, I confess that I'm hurt by the fact that Erik is working against me; and I can't help but think you have some considerable influence in his decision to do so."

Charles shivers. Sensing his mutiny, Azazel's grip on his arms tightens, his nails digging in, leaving soft marks through his clothes. From the corner of his eye, he can see Angel smirking a little now, next to another young man whom he knows has the ability to create rather formidable tornadoes. When he speaks again, it's in a near whisper. "Erik believes, as I do," Charles begins, "that humans and mutants must be made to co-exist, to live together in peace. It is the future of the species." He doesn't mention how dubious he knows Erik to find this little pet theory of his. Somehow, glancing at Shaw's unaccountably young-looking face, however, he's pretty sure the other man already knows.

"How hopelessly, adorably naive," Shaw tells him, and chucks Charles on the chin condescendingly. "Surely you don't really believe that. Surely you can understand that the true natural order of any dominant species is to wipe the other, weaker ones out. I'm just creating a quick and relatively painless way to make that happen."

Charles' arms are starting to get sore. "Yes," he bites back blithely, "but your means is not natural. You intend to wipe out all of humanity by instrumenting a war. How could that be relatively painless, as you've said?"

Shaw pats him on the head. "If the means exist, why not take advantage of them?" When Charles simply grunts in response, he moves smoothly back to his initial point: "I wonder," he muses, running a hand down Charles' arm, "what would be a suitable warning to send to Erik. Should I kill you, perhaps? Leave your body somewhere for him to find?" he asks politely, and Charles struggles in Azazel's grip at the implied danger. Shaw smiles and continues voicing hypotheticals. "Of course, a slightly more complicated method would be allowing him to come to you." He tilts his head consideringly. "It would be leaving an awful lot to chance, however."

The breaking of Azazel's grip on his arms and the red-skinned mutant's subsequent grasping of Shaw's throat is fluid, almost automatic. Shaw lets out a surprised gurgle, and then regains his bearings, shoving Azazel backwards with a blast of his considerable power. "Grab him," he orders, pointing at Charles, and just like that, he's apprehended anew, Azazel's newest grip even less forgiving than it was initially, the larger mutant growling unhappily near Charles' ear.

Clearing his throat, Shaw gets up in Charles' personal space, still smiling, though his eyes showcase his anger. "You had to try, didn't you?" he smirks, and grips at Charles' face tightly, squeezing his jaw. Charles makes a small moue of desperation, and Shaw looks at him consideringly. "I wonder ..." he murmurs, and Charles watches him slide his helmet off; before he can attempt to control the other man's likely considerable mind, however, Shaw is fitting the headpiece onto Charles himself, sliding it down over his ears, smiling in delight when he sees how the sudden lack of telepathic ability frightens the younger man. "This will do nicely," he announces, and then gestures up at Azazel. "We'll need to keep him somewhere safe, of course," he intones, and then his gaze slides back to Charles momentarily, who may or may not let out a small whimper. "After all," Shaw murmurs close to Charles' face, "we don't want him to attempt any more daring escapes."

He feels Shaw press something warm to his chest - his fingers, perhaps, warmed by an inhuman source of energy - and then everything goes dark.

*

The plan goes off as best it can. Raven is the one who alerts them to the presence of the mansion, which she assures them repeatedly that Charles would want them to use. After a few days of quiet, countryside bliss, punctuated by fierce training and not-often-discussed heartache, the news report clues them all in as to Shaw's whereabouts. In addition, Hank comes through admirably with the Blackbird, though there is some momentary confusion when he puts in his first appearance of the morning covered in lush, blue fur. "Never looked better, man," Erik comments, and Hank growls, but eventually, they're on their way.

Upending the submarine is shaky, imprecise work. When his grip starts to loosen, Erik closes his eyes and thinks of Charles, of the young man whose sudden disappearance has been the cause of several nights of lost sleep. He has a sinking feeling that Shaw has something to do with the fact that Charles left the premises without so much as a trace, and the thought makes him all the more determined to see this plan, crazy though it seems, successfully through.

They crash land rather messily on a small beach, and Erik tries not to get irritated as he cajoles the group to collect their bearings quickly and become more single-mindedly focused on their goal. "You three, you're on the defense," he tells Hank, Alex, and Sean. After an aborted argument, he also convinces Raven to guard the entrance of the ship. Then he sends a pointed look at Agent MacTaggert ("I still don't know why you came along," he mutters at her, and she stares back at him coolly, holding her own),and heads for the beached remains of Shaw's submarine.

He doesn't feel or see anything out of the ordinary for several minutes, and it begins to unnerve him. "There's nobody here, God damn it," he swears out loud, and then he hears it: A soft chuckle, a wall opening into a hidden room, and then, finally, his name, purred. "Erik," Shaw laughs delightedly, and Erik turns slowly to face his greatest enemy. "What a surprise," the other man beams, and Erik glares.

"Where's Charles?" he asks bluntly, cutting to the chase, not in the mood for niceties or tricks. Shaw, however, surprises him.

"He's just in here. You can come see him if you'd like." Shaw looks him up and down, and Erik tries not to cringe, tries not to fall back on old habits of letting Shaw make him feel like an insignificant insect to be squashed or shooed away. "Nice jumpsuit," the other man tells him, and Erik does not rise to the bait. Still, he follows Shaw into the adjoining room, led willfully like a lamb to slaughter.

Charles is, in fact, there, and the sight of him fills Erik with immediate relief. "Erik," Charles says quietly, and Erik surveys the tell-tale signs of his captivity: Charles' face is bruised, one eye blackened, and his arms are wound tightly overhead, fastened in what appear to be leather cuffs. A helmet obscures most of his head and face, and Erik has only vague suspicions about what it's for, but even that much makes his fist clench; Charles has been hurt by this man, he thinks, and he's not going to let Shaw get away with it. He takes in Charles' clothing, which appears to be dirtied and ripped in places, and wants nothing more than to pull him close, to comfort, to end this. Instead, he squares his shoulders and faces Shaw anew, who continues to grin at the both of them.

"Charles and I have had the chance to get to know one another a bit. You're lucky to have a friend like him, Erik," Shaw goads, and Erik grits his teeth. "Of course," Shaw continues, "I did not leave him alive without reason. As you can probably guess, I have a proposition for you; both of you, as a matter of fact." Briefly, Erik and Charles make eye contact. "Join me," Shaw says simply, and Erik gapes. "Oh, come now," the older man laughs. He begins striding closer, smiling as he watches Erik stiffen. "I'm sure you can agree that humans are on their way out, Erik," he smarms. That Erik's stubborn expression falters for even a second confirms this for him. "It's the natural way of things, my friend," he says softly, his voice seductive and low. "Join me, Erik," he says again, and Erik swallows, fists clenched at his sides. "Help me make that happen, for all of us superior beings; and once you have, you'll take your rightful place at my side. It's what I've wanted for you all along, you know," he murmurs, and Erik gapes at him, devastated. "I'm sorry for what happened in the camps, to your poor mother, of course," Shaw continues, and Erik thinks he forgets momentarily how to breathe. "But," Shaw continues, "if the end result is you, I would do it all over again. Join me, Erik."

"Erik, don't do this." Charles' voice is small, even trembling, but Erik looks up nonetheless. "This isn't natural; it's barbaric. We're better than that; we can be the better men."

"We already are," Shaw argues firmly, and then he seems to make a decision. "I see we're at an impasse once again, Erik," he smarms, and Erik feels a trickle of fear slide up his spine; something about Shaw's tone is eerily familiar.

"I may not be able to convince you with logic," Shaw says sadly, and now he's fumbling in his pocket. "But there are other ways." The gun he points at Charles' chest is made of plastic, as Erik realizes the moment he tries to reach out for it with his mind, feeling nothing. "It's my side," Shaw tells him, and there's a small clicking sound, "or this," he finishes, and Erik watches Charles squeeze his eyes shut. When he doesn't say anything for several seconds, Shaw's lips curl. "I'm going to count to three," he intones softly, and Erik's heart is in his throat. "One," Shaw says, and his arm is smooth, his aim on the man chained to the wall of the submarine's inner sanctum. Tears roll down Charles' face, but he says nothing. "Two," Shaw continues, and Erik decides that he's had enough of this.

"Stop," he croaks, wetting his lips. He swallows hard, his heart thumping loudly. "I'll join you. Just, just don't hurt him, and I'll do whatever you want." Knowing he has to make it convincing, he adds, "I agree with everything you've said. I know it, now: You are my creator."

Slowly, Shaw lowers the gun, his face pinched, yet pleased. He jerks his head at Charles, who watches the scene with wet eyes. "And what of him?" Shaw says softly. "Will he join us, too? If not," he continues, raising the gun again, "I have no choice. I cannot let him leave this room alive, knowing what he knows."

"He'll join us," Erik says quickly, but Shaw is reluctant.

"I want to hear it from him."

Erik looks desperately at Charles. "Say 'yes,' Charles. Do it. It will be all right," he argues, watching as tears continue to roll down Charles' face. "You can still run your school, keep your students safe. They'll be even safer, now. They'll learn to defend themselves. All of us, all mutants will work together, protecting each other. It's the best choice we have, Charles."

Shaw watches the exchange with a slow smoldering grin. "Listen to your friend, Charles," he purrs at the bound young man. "He speaks the truth."

Eventually, very slowly, Charles nods. "All right," he says quietly, his voice nary a whisper. He clears his throat. "All right," he says again. "I'll join you. Just so long as the children remain safe."

"Of course," Shaw smiles. He nods at Erik, allowing him to walk across the room and unfasten Charles' wrists from their bindings. Hands slide up the back of Charles' sweater as Erik tugs him into a tight embrace. "It's all right. Everything will be all right," Erik murmurs to him, and Charles closes his eyes and listens to the thump-thump-thump of the other man's heartbeat, trying to find it comforting.


End file.
